


Only Splendor for the Sight

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Bellamy is determined to figure out why this girl keeps coming to his Christmas tree lot but never buys a tree.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'o christmas tree' lyrics

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Bellamy mutters.

“Oh, you think it’s weird? Glad you cleared that up for me. I was really not getting that vibe from the way you’ve mentioned it every day this week,” says Miller. Bellamy does not shove him, but only because he’s holding a tree. Bellamy’s not looking to lose a sale or actually injure his friend. He’s a dick, but not  _ that _ much of a dick.

“I’ve said it every day this week because she’s been back  _ every day this week, _ ” Bellamy says, eyeing the girl wandering between the firs. He noticed her the first time because she’s cute-- a beanie pulled down over blonde waves, candy cane-striped socks that peek out over the tops of her boots, and a sharp, assessing gaze that makes him wish he could read minds. 

He was with a customer when he spotted her, and when he was finally free, she’d left. It was somewhat of a letdown, but not notable. Until she came back the next morning. And the one after that. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?” He demands.

“I think  _ you’re _ weird.”

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Bellamy decides, ignoring his friend.

As he walks away, he can hear Miller mutter under his breath, “Better her than me.”

The girl seems to be wandering aimlessly, but the way her eyes scan the row of trees-- which must be very familiar to her by now-- suggest she’s looking for something specific. 

“Can I help you find something?”

It takes a moment for her to react, like she wasn’t expecting to be addressed, and when she meets his eyes she has an almost guilty expression on her face. Still cute up close, he notes.

“No thank you, I’m just-- browsing.” 

Normally, he’d accept her brush-off, but he’s really curious.

“Browsing for anything in particular? We’ve got lots of great trees.” He nods to the one nearest to her. “This is one of my favorites.”

“I bet you say that to all the hesitant customers,” she says, smiling. It’s a good look for her.

“No, really.” He steps back next to her so he can better examine the tree. “This is my number-one recommendation. It’s still pretty green even though it's getting late in the season, which is always a good sign. It has a nice shape, no obvious holes. Doesn’t lean. Smells good.”

“They all smell good.”

“This one included,” he says, and she lets loose a soft snort. “The only reason it’s still on the lot is that it’s too tall for most of our customers.” He slants his eyes at her. “You have high ceilings, by any chance?”

“Sadly, no. I live in a city. I barely have closet space.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“If I did have high ceilings, I definitely would have bought this tree. You really sold me on it.” She pauses. “Did you grow this tree yourself, or are you just really dedicated to good customer service?”

“I’m the help,” he says, scanning the lot until he finds Miller. “The guy under that blue spruce is a friend of mine; it’s his family’s farm. But I do pride myself on my ability to find our customers their perfect match."

"Perfect, huh? How far do your talents extend? Are they limited to tree-related needs, or can you do, like, shrubs and flowers too?"

"I have been known to help people size wreaths for their front doors."

"Very impressive." She smiles, a signal to Bellamy that this sort of ridiculous conversation is going better than he could have expected. "What do you do when it's not Christmas tree season?'

"Grad student, so mostly part-time bartending and stressing about my thesis."

She laughs. "That's what I missed out on by going straight into the workforce. Sounds better than my soul-sucking nine-to-five, honestly."

"Grass is always greener," he shrugs, then presses forward while he has the chance. “So what size tree are you browsing for? Like I said, helping people find what they're looking for is kind of my entire job description.”

“Uh--” Her phone buzzes in her hand and when she looks back up, her expression is regretful. She waves the phone lamely and he can see a text message from someone named Dante, his contact name followed by a devil emoji. “I've actually got to run. Work.”

“It’s almost like you don’t get to stand around in a Christmas tree lot all day.”

She laughs again. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Thanks for the help anyways...”

“Bellamy,” he supplies, extending a hand. 

“I’m Clarke.”

“Anytime, Clarke. Have a good one.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Miller waits until she’s disappeared into the metro before he wanders over, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together.

“Your curiosity satisfied?”

“Not yet,” Bellamy shrugs. If anything, it’s only been heightened. “But I have a feeling she’ll be back.”

His feeling turns out to be a good one, because she’s back the very next day. He snags her by the entrance, jerking his head and telling her, “I think I’ve got a tree for you.”

She checks her phone, biting her lip, then smiles at him. “Lead the way.”

He winds them through the lot to the medium-sized trees, indicating one that’s nice and full.

“Still big, still beautiful, but with a little less height.”

“It’s very-- squat,” she says, like she’s trying to be polite. "I think it wouldn't look so funny if it were a little taller."

"Probably."

She eyes him. “You're not going to try to convince me to buy it?”

“This is a true test of my skills. It's like leveling up for me-- the Goldilocks challenge." She laughs again, and it still feels magical that he can make that happen. "Besides," he shrugs. "I feel like most of our trees speak for themselves."

“Except the one yesterday.”

“She’s my favorite, Clarke. I want her to go to a good home.”

Clarke grins brightly at him. It’s a lot to process. “You remembered my name.”

“I won’t be offended if you forgot mine. It’s kind of unique.”

“And I’m one out of who knows how many customers you see in a day. I can remember one name; it’s not hard, Bellamy.” 

“Yeah, but most customers only come through here once,” he can’t help saying. “You’re in here all the time; you’re pretty memorable.”

“True.” She bites her lip. “I guess it’s kind of weird, huh?”

“Not at all,” he lies. It’s awkward now; he didn’t mean to make her feel called out. “We don’t really get regulars, so it’s cool that we have one now.”

She eyes him skeptically for a moment, then shakes her head on a smile. “You’re full of shit, but it's really _nice_ shit. So thanks.”

He grins. “Finding people their perfect tree isn't my only superpower.” He nudges her with his elbow and bounces off her plushy parka. “So what gives? You from a rival lot, scoping out the competition? You thrive on the adrenaline of waiting until the last minute? You just really,  _ really _ picky when it comes to Christmas trees? I have tons of theories.”

She checks her phone, then smiles at him. “I almost feel bad for leaving you hanging, but I have to go again. I’ll be back, though. You can ask me then.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat.”

"Somehow, I feel like your own imagination will get you through. See you tomorrow, Bellamy.”

“See you.”

He gets through the rest of the morning without significant incident, but when they take their lunch break Miller says, “I saw your mystery girl come through again this morning.”

“Her name is Clarke,” Bellamy corrects, then kicks himself when Miller’s face lights up. It only does that when Monty is around or when he’s just discovered a new thing to make fun of Bellamy about. So, approximately three or four times a day.

“You got her name?”

“I got her name yesterday. Don’t make it into a thing.”

“I don’t have to. You’re doing it for me,” he says, gleeful. “You get her sign, too?” Bellamy doesn’t dignify that with a response, but it doesn’t discourage Miller in the slightest. “I never really bought the whole enigmatic, mysterious, leave-them-wanting-more game. Is that really what you’re into?”

“She’s cute and fun to talk to. Shut up.”

“I saw her laughing. You should act quick, before she realizes how shitty your sense of humor really is.”

“Thanks.”

“What are friends for?”

“Being unsupportive assholes, apparently,” he grumbles, but he’s delighted the next morning when Miller sends Clarke to find him inside the lot's miniature cabin, filling two cups of hot cider.

“Hey. You’re early."

“I wanted to have a full conversation with you,” she says, as if it’s not the best thing he’s heard this week. “What are you doing in here?”

“I was getting us something to keep our hands warm,” he says, thrusting a styrofoam cup at her. “Cider?”

“Sure, thanks.” She offers him the dollar they officially charge, but he waves her away.

“My treat. Consider it a bribe. You get a drink, I get my mystery solved.”

“Whatever you came up with is probably way more interesting than reality,” she admits, following him out onto the lot. “Truth is, I don't _have_ an ideal tree I'm looking for. I’m not getting a tree this year at all. I live six floors up without an elevator, and I don’t have a lot of room anyway. But I like Christmas trees so it seemed like a good compromise, wandering through on my way to the metro in the mornings.” She pauses. “And the workers here make pretty good eye candy, too.”

“Yeah?” He asks, laughing in surprise. She nods, smirking.

“I’m not saying it’s what kept me coming back, but it’s a nice perk.”

“It is hard to focus on my work sometimes, when Miller’s so good-looking. All that flexing and lifting. He can be a real distraction.”

“I was definitely talking about Miller,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you, by any chance, know if he’d be interested in grabbing a bite to eat after work?”

“I think he has plans with his boyfriend, but if you’d settle for less than the big boss, I’m off at eight.”

“Even better.” She grins. “Here, give me your number and I’ll text you when I head out.”  She kisses him on the cheek before she goes. 

Miller doesn’t even have to say anything this time, just catches his eye and gives him a thumbs-up. It’s a lot of support, coming from him.

When she shows up at the end of his shift, she greets him with a huge smile he doesn’t know how he earned, and another peck on the cheek.

“Nice to see you too,” he says, amused.

She laughs. “You’re cute. Ready to go?”

“Almost.” He grabs her hand and starts leading her to the side of the lot. “You live near here, right?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Good. I have something for you. I figured maybe we could drop it off before dinner.”

“Drop what off?”

They slow to a stop and he gestures with his free hand. “Your tree.”

It’s not much-- barely more than a sprig on a tiny wooden stand, all materials from their scrap pile-- but hanging a shiny red ball off one of the delicate limbs easily transformed it into a Charlie Brown tree.

“You don’t have to take it, obviously,” he rambles, when she doesn’t say anything. “But I thought it might be a good compromise. Cute, clever, doesn’t take up much space.” 

Before he can keep rambling, she presses up on her toes and kisses him square on the lips. He’s sure this can’t be as good for her as it is for him-- she’s soft and warm and perfect, and he’s got chapped lips and a runny nose-- but when she pulls back, she’s downright  _ beaming _ .

“It’s perfect,” she says, picking up the tree with one hand and keeping the other in his.

“And you doubted my ability to find you a good match,” he teases as they start strolling back toward her place. 

“I’m glad to be wrong, just this once.” She readjusts her grip so that her fingers slot perfectly between his. “You truly have a matchmaking gift.”

 

He has to agree, because it's more than the tree that turns out to be just right. 

In fact, he'd say it's his best match ever.


End file.
